More Than Friends
by r4ven3
Summary: Set after Harry had asked Ruth to marry him, he seeks her out to help him through a personal crisis. 6 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

There seemed little point in his hanging around the hospital, not after Jane had made it clear he was not welcome. Of course, he could have kicked up a stink, and used his knighthood as leverage with the staff, but he doubted that would work this time …... not that it ever had. He hurried out of the building to his car, and found himself in early evening traffic, headed for a place where he hoped he could seek some understanding from another, perhaps even temporary solace.

By the time he'd parked outside the small building in which Ruth and Beth shared a flat, he realised he was so weary he could barely think, so he leaned back in his seat, turning his head towards the front door of the flat, and closed his eyes …... just for a minute or two until Ruth came home.

Hearing a knocking beside his head, Harry sat up suddenly, and turned to see Ruth at his window.

"Either come inside and get warm, or go home to bed," she said to him, after he'd opened his window.

"I need to talk to someone," was all he was able to say.

"You can come in if you like. Beth's staying over with her latest man."

"Anyone I know?" he asked, as he followed her up the steps to her front door, and then into the flat, dark and cold after having been closed all day. "Beth, I mean. Is her boyfriend anyone I know?"

"Most likely not. I can't keep up," Ruth replied, turning on the gas fire, and indicating with her hand that he should sit on the sofa opposite. "Her ability to quickly form and then suddenly end relationships with men makes my head spin."

Without thinking about it, he sat down where she indicated, and felt the world-weariness leave his body. His sigh as he leant back against the cushions could have been heard in the neighbouring flats, so deeply did his body need to rest for a while.

"When did you last eat?" Ruth asked, as she brought a glass of whiskey in to him from the kitchen.

"I can't remember. Maybe this morning."

"And when did you last sleep?"

He eyed her then, wondering whether she cared, or if she was judging him for not looking after himself better. "I had a few hours last night, before I was called back on to the Grid."

"And then you disappeared after you received that phone call."

"Yes. It was …... personal. I …... that's why I need to talk to you."

Ruth turned and headed back into the kitchen, where he heard the sounds of her preparing to cook something."

"You don't have to do this, you know," he called to her. "I can go home, and eat something there."

Ruth suddenly appeared at the door to the sitting room. "You're here now, so you may as well stay. Do you want eggs with bacon, or eggs on their own?"

"Ruth …... I don't expect you to feed me."

"Someone has to, otherwise you'll die."

He smiled weakly in her direction, and nodded.

"Eggs with anything I can find in my fridge?"

He nodded, and smiled again, although the smiling part took a lot more energy than he had to spare, most of it being taken up by the need to keep his eyes open. He nodded off again while Ruth cooked their dinner.

* * *

"Thank you, Ruth. This looks wonderful."

Harry tucked into a large serving of eggs, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms, all on three slices of toast. He was hungier than he'd thought, and the food was not only satisfying his hunger, but forcing him awake. He'd almost finished his meal before Ruth had even begun eating. He looked across the table at Ruth, who had one egg, one slice of bacon, and half a tomato on one slice of toast on a small plate.

"I'm not as hungry as you," she explained, "and I ate lunch, while I suspect you didn't."

"I was at a private hospital where my son had been admitted after a drug overdose."

The words slipped out quietly, and for a moment, he thought Ruth had not heard them. He looked up to see her eyes on him, shock visible in her expression.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. Is he alright?"

"Graham hasn't been alright since he was sixteen or so. He only regained consciousness at three o'clock this afternoon, but that's a good sign, so I'm told."

Ruth put down her knife and fork, and looked at him closely. "Did you talk to him? Was he …... well?"

Suddenly, Ruth's obvious genuine concern for a young man whom she had never met, but who could have become her stepson, moved Harry in a way he'd not expected.

Suddenly, he felt the emotion well up in his body, the tears building behind his eyes.

Suddenly, he wished they were much more than colleagues, and that she had said yes instead of no.

Suddenly, he wished he'd not had a past which she'd found reprehensible.

Suddenly, he wanted to hold her close – a warm and desired body – so that she could help him through this.

Harry dropped his eating utensils on to his plate, and leaned his head forward to rest on his hands, hiding his eyes, his shoulders shaking with unexpressed emotion. His tears fell silently without his bidding. He could not have held them back, even had he tried. He couldn't look at Ruth, for fear she'd be embarrassed, or perhaps horrified by his uncharacteristic display of emotion.

The shaking in his shoulders eased once he allowed his tears to fall freely. It was only then that he sensed Ruth beside him, and then he felt her hand circling his back, consoling him, and he heard her quiet words of reassurance. This was the reason he'd driven to Ruth's flat. He'd yearned for her touch, her soft words. It's just that he hadn't expected them.

After a while, Harry's tears stopped, and he sat up and wiped his face with a bunch of tissues which Ruth handed him. She was sitting close to him, on the chair next to his, and her hand was still on his back, warming him, comforting him.

"Tell me about it, Harry. There's more, isn't there?"

He looked at her then. Her face was so close to his that he could have kissed her. He wanted to kiss her – _badly_ – but to do so would have risked the delicate, gossamer connection they had made in the previous half hour. Besides, he hadn't showered for almost twenty hours, so to be any closer to her wouldn't be right. And she'd said no to his proposal of marriage. That had spelled the end to any chance of physical intimacy between them. So why was her hand still on his back? Why was it that every minute or so, she rubbed her hand in circles over his jacket, sending shivers of pleasure through him?

He nodded. "Yes, there's more." He waited, hoping she'd want to hear more – the endless saga that was his relationship with his son, and his ex-wife. It was none of her business. She no longer had any interest in his private life – if, in fact, she ever had. He waited, looking into those deep blue eyes, waiting for the cue to continue.

"Tell me, Harry," she said, her hand again circling his back, so that he could barely think straight for wanting to be closer to her. "Tell me what happened."

.


	2. Chapter 2

As much as he didn't want to, he had to break the physical connection with Ruth. Her hand was resting on the middle of his back, over his spine, and her forearm rested on his elbow. When he looked into her eyes, he could hardly think, much less speak, so he leaned against the back of the chair, and she quickly removed her hand from his back, and folded her hands together in her lap. He almost cried at the loss of her touch.

He couldn't help but think how different this moment would have been had Ruth agreed to marry him. She would have accompanied him to the hospital, and he would have introduced her to the staff, and perhaps even his ex-wife. She would have sat with him, held his hand, worried with him – for him, for Graham – because she loved him. Now? There would be nothing between them, nothing personal or intimate. They were close colleagues – nothing more. Harry looked into Ruth's eyes, and seeing the concern there, he wondered whether she felt something more for him …... something similar to what it was he felt for her.

"Harry? What is it? What are you thinking? It's about us, isn't it?"

He nodded, unable to speak.

"I know you're here because I'm the closest friend you have, Harry. We still care about each other ….. for each other …... despite …... what happened. I'm here to listen to you …... if you want to tell me about it."

Harry took a deep breath, and forced himself to confide in this woman whom he loved, and who was unable to love him as he loved her.

"I didn't get to see Graham," he said, taking his eyes from Ruth's, in case he broke down again. "He'd been unconscious since soon after he took the …... the heroin, and he's not used heroin for over five years, so he had almost no resistance to it. His ….. mate …... rang his mother, and then called an ambulance."

"Why didn't you get to see him?"

"Oh, I saw him while he was unconscious. Jane – his mother – wanted me there to see what my absence as a father had done to him. He looked terrible …... pale and thin and corpse-like. But once he woke up, she talked him into not seeing me. I sat in the waiting room for three hours, and when I asked again to see him, the nursing staff just shook their heads, so I drove straight here. I …..."

"Harry, that's terrible. It's cruel and spiteful."

"Jane told me that Graham didn't wish to see me, but I suspect it was she who made the decision on his behalf. She has always blamed me for his drug use."

"How old is he?"

"He's almost twenty-seven."

"Harry, he's a man, and if this is the decision he has made, then he has to live with it, and take responsibility for it. He's no longer a child, nor is he an adolescent. It's not your fault."

He smiled at her then, because she'd said those words to him before. _It's not your fault_. It seemed to him that she was saying them to him often. Why was there so much wrong in the world, and why did it all seem to be his fault? Without thinking, he reached out his hand towards her, and she – almost unconsciously, it seemed – met his hand with hers. He drew her hand to rest on his thigh, where he felt himself brushing her knuckles with his thumb. Touching her like that was comforting, and no longer distracting. He grasped her hand tightly in his, to ensure she wouldn't pull it away. He needed her near him. He couldn't bear it were she to run away from him.

"There's more to this story. According to Graham's mate, the one who found him, my son had been distressed about the breakup of a relationship with a girl. He'd tried to ring me, but my phone had been turned off. I asked the friend what day this was, and it was the day of Ros's funeral. I'd turned off my phone for the funeral, and with everything that happened …... afterwards …... I forgot to turn it back on until the next morning."

"And he took heroin because of that?"

"No …. but that's when he began to unravel. He visited Jane at home, and she told him that I'd never be available for him to talk to, and that he should just forget that he ever had a father. They had a massive row, and Graham stormed out, and went on a ten-day bender of alcohol and anything else he could get his hands on. The heroin was not his usual drug of choice, but by that time he was past making reasonable decisions. My suspicion is that he hadn't expected to wake up after taking it."

"You think it was a _suicide_ attempt?"

"I suspect so."

"Oh, Harry, no wonder you're so distressed. This young man is your only son, and he's just tried to kill himself. I can't imagine how that must feel – for him, as well as for you."

Ruth's empathic response had Harry blinking again to hold back the tears. He could no longer bear to look into her eyes, so he cast his own eyes downwards. Ruth, seeing him struggling with his emotions, pulled his hand to her lips, and kissed his fingers, and then twisted their hands until their fingers were entwined. She then rested their hands on her own thigh. Harry could barely breathe. That was about the most intimate thing they'd ever done together, and he was close to unravelling with grief and pain ….. and gratitude.

"There's more," he said, once he knew he'd once more be able to speak with a steady voice. "Graham is in a private hospital in Buckinghamshire – just the other side of Uxbridge – and he has a consulting psychiatrist who has been working with him over the past few years, during his recovery. He rang me while I was at the hospital this afternoon, wanting to speak with me about Graham."

"You've not spoken to this man before?"

"No. He's spent considerable time with Graham, and has even spoken to Jane, but never to me."

"Problems with one member of a family are usually about the whole family, Harry, not just the fault of one person alone. I think I might have read that in a women's magazine." She smiled at him in a way that had his heart beating rapidly, too rapidly for comfort.

"Dr Graham – yes, that's his name – wants to speak with me tomorrow at one o'clock."

"But tomorrow's Sunday. It's your day off."

"Jane once told me there are no days off for parents. Ruth …..." Harry lifted his eyes to hers. "Would you come with me when I see him? I know it's a big ask, but I need your calm presence, and -"

"Of course I'll come with you. I'm not sure that I should be seeing the psychiatrist. I'm not family."

"Thank you, Ruth. That means a lot to me." He kept his eyes on hers, amazed that she had agreed to accompany him to Buckinghamshire the following day. He knew it wasn't a date, but it was something – time spent together, and away from work. He wanted to add, `You're my family', but didn't want to push them beyond where they were at that moment …... which was closer than they'd been in the seven years they'd known one another. "I'd better go home now," he said, realising that he was very tired, and would need at least ten hours sleep.

"You're welcome to sleep here if you want," Ruth said – completely unexpectedly. "You can sleep on the sofa. You're so tired, Harry. I'm not sure it's safe for you to be driving home."

"As inviting as a night on your sofa is, I'd prefer my own bed." He smiled at her, and lifted her hand to his lips. The best thing about kissing her hand was that she didn't pull away.

Ruth walked him to the door, and reached up to kiss his cheek. "Ring me when you get home, Harry. I'll worry about you until I know you're safely home."

And so he did, and after a brief conversation, they said goodnight, and Harry wearily climbed the stairs to his own bed.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Thanks so much for the support for this fic so far, and for your lovely reviews.**_

* * *

The closer they got to Buckinghamshire, the quieter Harry became, and he was almost certain that Ruth had noticed. They'd begun the journey in rather high spirits, the prospect of a day away from Thames House, and terror threat reports, and meetings which seemed never to end, a reason for celebration. It was only as they drew away from Greater London that the real reason for the day out began to weigh heavily on them both.

"Harry," Ruth said at last, after a long silence, "talk to me. I know you're worried, but I can't be a support for you if you don't talk to me."

He darted a quick look at her across the short space between them, and he hoped she couldn't see how very afraid he was.

"I know you're scared, Harry. It's not unmanly to feel fear."

"I know."

"Then tell me. A problem shared is …... well, you know the rest."

"You …... you don't have to do this. When, a couple of weeks ago, you said …... what you said, then that meant that …..."

"It meant I wasn't about to marry you. It didn't mean I don't care about you, and I wasn't sounding the death knell to our relationship."

"So, what is our relationship, Ruth? Because I have no idea."

"It's whatever we agree it is. Last night, and again today …... I'm keeping you company, and …... supporting you through a difficult time, but I can't do that if you won't talk to me."

Harry remained silent for some time, mulling over how much he should say to Ruth, and what the hell she'd meant by what she'd just said. He was not used to sharing his fears and his feelings, and yet …... and yet, he wanted to. Very much.

"I …... I'm," he began, "really worried about this psychiatrist, Ruth."

"Go on."

"He probably knows my son better than I do. I'm afraid …... he'll suggest I stay away from Graham …... that I'm a damaging influence."

"How can he suggest that having not yet met you? All he has is your wife's opinion."

"Ex-wife. Jane is very much my ex-wife."

"I know. Sorry. If you want me to be with you while you speak to the psychiatrist, then I will, even though …..."

"Even though we're not married."

"Yes." Her voice was quiet, the word sliding out in a sigh. In that moment, Harry hoped that Ruth was beginning to regret her decision of two weeks earlier.

* * *

"This is Ruth Evershed," Harry introduced her to Dr Felix Graham, "and I'd like her to be with me while I speak with you."

"That's fine with me," the doctor said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, like he had an abundance of energy. He was a slightly-built man of short stature, and when standing next to him, Harry looked like a giant. "I welcome partners of clients, although you're not exactly a client. Come in. Come in."

Harry looked sideways at Ruth, who appeared unfazed by the doctor's assumption that she was his partner.

"Sit down. Here, we'll sit over here. It's much more comfortable."

The doctor – too young to have the responsibility of his son's recovery on his small shoulders, in Harry's opinion – indicated that he and Ruth should sit together on a small sofa near the window which overlooked the grounds, while he occupied a chair opposite. When Harry and Ruth sat down, their hips and knees touched, and he was even more surprised when Ruth grasped his hand, and laced their fingers. He knew that she was offering him continued reassurance, but it felt nice, and in a part of his conscious mind, he could imagine that they really were partners.

"Let's not beat around the bush," Felix Graham began, "after all, it's Sunday, and you no doubt have better things to be doing than talking to me. I brought you here, Harry, because I think that your son's recovery cannot be assured unless he forms a more stable and regular relationship with you."

Harry felt Ruth squeeze his hand, and he squeezed hers back. He wanted to smile, laugh, and even to cry, but he held on to his self-control.

"I have asked Jane to not visit your son today. My opinion is that he has become overly dependent upon his mother, and that has prevented him from forming a healthy adult identity. It will take him some time to find out who he is, and an essential part of that process is to get to know you as his father, and as an equal, Harry. Will you be prepared to do that?"

Harry nodded, and allowed himself a small smile. He looked down at Ruth, and she was smiling up at him. He'd never wanted to kiss her more than he did at that moment.

"I'm not saying it will be easy. Graham harbors a lot of resentment in relation to the time you put into your job, the long absences from home, and he has even told me about your affairs." At the mention of the affairs, Felix shot a quick look at Ruth, who, to her credit, remained impassive, still grasping Harry's hand tightly in hers. "I suspect that Jane has been his main source of information about you. It's time that you took over as that source of information. He needs to know the adult you are, and he needs to know that you care for him, and don't judge him."

"When can I start?"

"Today, if that's alright with you."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Harry entered his son's room. Ruth waited in a family room, and Felix Graham watched Harry and Graham through an observation window. Harry thought it a strange situation, but he'd been assured by the psychiatrist that Graham had agreed to this. He'd also been given a list of instructions about what he should and shouldn't say.

"Imagine you are two men who are meeting for the first time, because in some ways, that is what you are. Don't bring up the past …... not unless he does …... and don't ask why he took heroin. I doubt he even knows. Yes, he's mad at you. Let him be angry with you, if that's what he needs. This visit isn't about you – it's about him."

Felix's final instructions had been fair, and Harry hoped he could remain calm.

"Remember how much you love him," Ruth said, her hand grasping his, just before he entered Graham's room. "The fact that you love him is all that matters, Harry." She then dropped his hand, and said `Go', as he hesitated at the doorway.

* * *

They left the hospital immediately after Harry had spent forty minutes with his son, and then had again spoken with Felix – this time in private.

"I'm starving, Ruth. Shall we have lunch?"

They chose a small pub in Uxbridge. The weather was fine, but overcast and cold, so they found a cosy booth in a corner of a small bar, one with an open fire in the middle of the room.

"Ploughman's?" Harry asked Ruth.

"I could eat a horse," she said.

"I don't think they serve horse."

"Alright, then. I'll settle for a ploughman's. Do they do a ploughwoman's?"

"I doubt it. What you don't eat, I'll polish off for you. I haven't eaten since …..."

"My bacon and eggs last night?"

Harry nodded, and then walked to the bar to order their drinks and food.

They talked little while they ate, although Harry really wanted to share with her his meeting with Graham.

"Are you going to tell me about it, Harry?" Ruth said once they'd finished eating, and they were each sipping a white wine.

"It was …... awkward and difficult, but at least I held my temper. Graham accused me of being a distant and tyrannical father – he called me an arrogant, know-it-all prick – and I let him say what he had to say. Felix had already told me that I shouldn't try to defend my past actions, and there's a lot Graham needs to get off his chest. I suppose that makes sense, so I listened to him, and most of it wasn't easy for me to hear." Harry took a sip of his wine before he continued. "I told him I was sorry for being an absent and disinterested father, and that I was prepared to begin again. I asked him did he wish to see me again, and he said he did. He wants to see me twice a week – on Wednesday evenings and on Sunday afternoons."

"Harry …... you are going to have to make those visits with Graham top priority, ahead of national security, and in order to achieve that, you'll have to -"

"Delegate. Yes, I know."

"Were you to miss even one session with him, he'll probably shut you out all over again. You need to know that when you walk away from MI-5 – when you retire – you won't have to think about national security, but you'll need your family – your children, and their children, should they have them."

"I know. Aging has led me to valuing my children. I have so many regrets, Ruth."

"Don't regret, Harry. Live."

"I'd like to live better than I have in the past. I'd like it were …... you to be part of my life, too."

"I already am."

"Not just as Florence Nightingale, Ruth."

"Is that what you think I am?"

"You've been incredibly supportive, and I don't know that I could have done what I did today without you. You're a wonderful friend."

"Oh, Harry, we're so much more than friends. We always have been."

Harry put down his glass, and watched Ruth's face, in an attempt to read her. "But …... only two weeks ago, you said -"

"I know what I said. What I needed to have said at the time – and didn't because I didn't quite know what the missing ingredient was – that we should spend some time together away from work, getting to know one another away from surveillance vans and national emergencies. And then, last night …... you turned up at my house in need of me. It was without doubt the most wonderful thing you have ever done, Harry."

"But …... I was tired and I didn't make much sense, and I wasn't handling my son's drug situation at all well …... and I ate all your food."

"That's what I mean." Ruth reached out across the table, and took his hand. "You needed me. The man who asked me to marry him didn't really need me. He may have wanted me – as a companion, and for sex – but he didn't _need_ me. When you turned up at my place, Harry, upset and grief-stricken over your son, you showed me your heart, and that's what I've needed to see. I needed to see _you_, Harry."

Harry was speechless. Without words. Overjoyed. Elated.

And very much in love.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: To those who have asked/wondered, this is a story of 6 chapters (and that is written in the story blurb at the top)**_

* * *

They held hands as they smiled at one another across the table.

"I think today has been about the best day of my life so far," he murmured.

"There'll be many more days like this, Harry. Better ones, happier ones."

"Will you share those days with me?"

"Of course I will, but not as your friend."

Ruth noticed Harry's face drop a little, and added, "I'd like to be the person I pretended to be while we visited the hospital."

"My partner?" Harry could barely breathe, much less speak, and his voice was hoarse with emotion.

Ruth nodded and smiled, grasping his hand in both of hers, rubbing her thumbs along his knuckles.

"Today ….. when we were in Felix's office, and he mentioned your affairs, he looked at me …... and I wondered did he think I was one of your affairs, or did he think I was your partner, and perhaps didn't know your history with women."

"I hope you smiled smugly at him."

"Of course. I had a lot of fun posing as your partner."

"Then I hope that being the real thing will be just as rewarding."

"I'm sure it will."

They watched one another for a while, not speaking, but just smiling, until Ruth sat back in her chair, breaking physical contact with him.

"Harry …..." she began, and he couldn't help the feeling of dread which crept in, causing butterflies of fear to take up residence in his gut. "Do you think we could spend tonight together? Perhaps at your house, if that's alright. I'm expecting Beth to come home some time this evening, and …... well …. that could be …..."

Harry was having trouble keeping up. From the butterflies of fear, he then felt butterflies of joy madly flapping around inside him. He watched her from across the table as he quickly formulated a plan.

"Here's what I think we should do," he said at last.

* * *

First stop was Ruth's flat. Harry went inside with her while she packed some things.

"If you pack enough for two nights and two days, then that will give us some time together," Harry had suggested.

Ruth packed quickly, not wanting to run into Beth, and they drove away in a hurry.

"I feel like Bonnie and Clyde," Ruth said, giggling.

"All we need is a Browning automatic, and a 1932 Ford V8 convertible, and we could take to the road."

"I'd rather go to your place, Harry."

He smiled at her, as she placed her hand on his knee. Normally, her action would be distracting, but her hand felt warm, and her touch loving.

"Next stop is Tesco. My larder is bare."

* * *

At Harry's house, he showed her to his bedroom, and made space in his wardrobe for her clothes, and more space in his en suite bathroom for her toiletries.

"You want me to sleep with you tonight?"

"I'd like that, yes, but only if you want to, Ruth. I'm not expecting sex."

She stared at him, her eyes wide. "Why not?"

"We've barely touched, and …... we haven't even shared a proper kiss."

Ruth stepped close to him, her hips against his, her stomach tucked against his own, and taking his face between her hands, she reached up to kiss him. The kiss began carefully, each finding their place against the body of the other. When their lips parted, Harry took charge. He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her tightly against his own body. As his hands travelled over her back, and even to her buttocks, Ruth hands slid under his jumper and his shirt, and her fingertips lit up his bare skin so that he felt more alive than he had in a very long time. It was as he felt his own physical response to her closeness press against her stomach, and her moan in reply, that he began to pull away from her – slowly, and reluctantly.

They still stood close together, his hands on her hips, and her hands resting on his chest, and they smiled at one another. Harry had barely stopped smiling since he'd seen Graham. He'd not known he had such a capacity for sheer joy. Earlier in his life, he'd viewed women as creatures he'd had to seduce and conquer …... perhaps as a way of proving himself. Now …... now, he was beginning a new phase of his life with a different woman, who was teaching him to be a different kind of man. He was happy to be with her. Anything else was a bonus.

"What are you thinking about?" Ruth asked him.

He'd always hated it when women had asked him that question. It was most often asked after sex, and it meant: `Do you love me?' With Ruth, there was no hidden meaning, no subtext. She meant what she said.

"I'm thinking how lucky I am to have met you, Ruth. I'm thinking how much I'm looking forward to being with you, and learning more about you. I'm thinking how different you are to the women I've been with before, and I love that about you."

He stopped then, and examined her face for her reaction. Neither of them had mentioned the L-word. It had been implied that they loved one another, and perhaps had for some time. That had been the cause of his confusion at the time she'd turned down his proposal of marriage. He'd known that she loved him, so why had she said no?

"It's alright to tell me you love me, Harry. I know you do, and I love you as well. We wouldn't be here together in your bedroom if we didn't love one another. Loving one another is the one thing we can be sure about. We've cared about one another for a long time."

He nodded, and then reached down to kiss her softly and gently. "Let's make dinner," he said, needing a distraction, and needing to get her out of the bedroom before he forgot his promise to himself.

* * *

Long after they'd finished eating, they were still sitting at the table, finishing off a bottle of wine and talking. There was no hurry for them to be getting to the bedroom. It wasn't even nine o'clock. Harry was not sure how best to approach what was about to happen. Of course, he wanted everything. He always had. His problem was in how to broach the subject with Ruth. Asking her did she want to have sex with him was likely to turn her off. Perhaps he needed to wait until they were upstairs, and then see where things headed from there.

They took their time over tidying up after dinner. Ruth went upstairs first, saying something about needing to find something to wear to bed. Harry stayed downstairs, fussing with the dishwasher, and then wandering around the living room, picking things up, and putting them down again. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him. He had never been a nervous or reluctant lover. Making love to women was something he knew he was good at, and he'd wanted Ruth in his bed for years now. It was just that …... the day had been so surprising, so positive, so wonderful, that he was afraid that the pendulum was about to swing in the other direction. He was waiting for the other shoe to fall.

By the time Harry had turned off the downstairs lights, and visited the bathroom, Ruth was in his bed. He stood inside the doorway, watching her snuggling under the duvet, her eyes on him.

"Well, don't just stand there," she said at last. "Come under here with me. I need you to warm me up, Harry."


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: This chapter is rated M. Avoid if offended.**_

* * *

Harry wasted no time. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks, his jumper, shirt, and then began on his trousers, but suddenly he became all thumbs.

"Come closer," Ruth said, sitting up against her pillow, and reaching for him.

Her movement caused the duvet to slip down to her waist, so that she sat there, her upper body covered only by an almost sheer white camisole. Harry suddenly knew that this evening was not about to end in a few chaste kisses, and maybe a cuddle or two. Ruth wanted him. He could see it in her eyes as she leaned towards him, her hands seeking the buttons on his trousers. He could see the outline of her breasts beneath her camisole, and he felt the beginnings of response in his lower body.

Harry sat on the bed beside Ruth, and leaned back against the pillow, giving himself over to her. During the previous twenty-four hours, she had taken charge. She'd said he needed her, and that she would be his partner because of his need for her. In his own universe, he preferred women to need men, but who was he to be calling the shots? She was stronger than he, wiser than he'd ever be, and he trusted her totally. He closed his eyes as her fingers deftly opened the buttons, and then slid down the zip on his trousers. He felt a brief frisson of pleasure as her fingertips brushed his growing erection through the material of his trunks, and he breathed out heavily.

"Lift your bum," she said, her voice gentle.

He lifted his backside from the mattress, and Ruth pulled his trousers from his body, and then she pulled the duvet from underneath him. This left him wearing only his trunks, and lying underneath the duvet beside her. He was already half hard, and mildly embarrassed that she had witnessed his body's obvious need.

"Harry …... Harry." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Were you not aroused, I'd have something to worry about …... don't you think? Now, kiss me."

He rolled on to his side and reached for her, pulling her closer, until their mouths met. As they kissed – a gentle, exploratory kiss – Ruth wriggled closer to him until she was flush against him, from chest to ankles. Harry felt their kiss becoming passionate, more intimate, and he felt Ruth's hand caressing the skin of his side, her fingers feathering lightly from his chest, around his back, and to the waistband of his trunks, from where she slid her fingers under the waistband, and then over the rise of his buttocks. Harry sighed with sheer pleasure.

Accepting at last that this night could only end with them making love, and that he'd better keep up, Harry pressed himself against her body, finding that he'd pushed himself between her thighs. In moments, he was fully erect, and desperate to be inside her. He had to slow down. He pulled his body away from her a little, breaking their kiss.

"What's wrong?" Ruth asked, looking into his eyes, her expression one of confusion.

"Nothing's wrong. I don't want this to happen …..."

"Harry …... you're giving mixed messages. Your body is obviously up for it."

He rolled on to his back, his arm still around her. "I didn't mean that I don't want _this_. I do. You have no idea how much. I think of little else. What I was trying to say was I don't want this to be a quick shag. I want _us_ to be slow and …... and loving."

Ruth leaned on her elbow, leaning towards him, looking down at him. "Harry, this is our first time. I don't think it will be slow …... but it will be loving. Let's just …."

"Do it?"

She nodded, smiling, as he brushed her hair off her face, and then cupped her cheek as she moved closer to him for another kiss. This time, he emptied his mind of all the fears he had about this, their first time. He again wrapped himself against her, and allowed their bodies to press together. He had always known this would feel pleasurable, but he hadn't known that he would be brought to the brink of climax just from kissing Ruth, and feeling their bodies pressed against one another.

Harry pushed his hand under the hem of her camisole, seeking her skin. While sitting in his office, attempting to concentrate on reading reports, he had often wandered off in his mind to a place where they are lying together, barely clothed, and his fingers are touching her bare skin. He groaned as he felt her nipple harden under his fingers. Ruth's hands were both inside his trunks, massaging his buttocks, and then one of her hands slid around to his front, and began to slide up and down his shaft.

"Ruth -" he said, barely able to speak.

"I know," she breathed, "it's time."

They'd only engaged in minimal foreplay, and they were each struggling with the other's underwear. By the time they were naked, they were both ready. They coupled slowly and carefully, but in time it was clear that their lovemaking would not be slow.

After the first exquisite moments when they first came together, and then for a few more, while they adjusted to one another, they gave themselves over to the moment. It was as though they had stepped together into a place where gravity, time and even space could no longer be measured. For this moment – however long it would be – they were one being, seeking the ultimate exquisite pleasure in the other, in being together.

It was when he felt her contracting around him, and arching away from him while her hips thrust towards him, that he allowed himself to follow her out of the place of oneness, and back into the reality of their two bodies seeking completion.

Once Harry had emptied himself inside her, he rolled them both on to their sides so that they lay, still joined, watching one another. Both were unable to stop smiling. Ruth reached up and kissed him.

"What was that for?" he asked, still smiling.

"For being amazing," she replied. "Are you tired?"

"A bit."

"Shall we sleep?"

"I just want to look at you."

"And I just want to look at you," Ruth replied.

So they watched one another until weariness overcame them, and they slept.

* * *

After spending two nights together, Ruth went home to her own flat after work on the third night. The fourth night was Wednesday night, and Harry had an appointment with his son at seven-thirty.

"Will you stay over tonight?" he asked her, when she visited him in his office in mid afternoon. "I'll most likely be home no later than nine, nine-thirty at the latest, and I'll …..."

"You'll need me," Ruth replied.

Harry nodded, looking into her face with such longing that she felt tears forming at the back of her eyes. He saw the sheen of tears in her eyes, and rose from his chair and walked around the desk to stand in front of her. Checking that they were not being observed, he reached up, and with his thumb he brushed a stray tear from her cheek.

"Is anything wrong, Ruth?" he whispered, holding her eyes with his.

"Nothing's wrong. Everything's perfect."

"Then ….. why …...?"

"This is so …. so wonderful with you …... being with you …... that …..."

"You're waiting for it to fall apart?" Harry stood close to her, but did not touch her. They were at work.

"Yes," Ruth breathed, looking down.

"Maybe it will, Ruth, but we have to be determined to face it when things get tough."

Which it did that night when Harry arrived home from seeing Graham. His face was pale, and he seemed tired and stressed.

"Graham said he doesn't want to see me any more. He says I'm the same arsehole I've always been." He undressed quickly, and climbed into bed beside Ruth, who wrapped him in her arms, and held him close while he told her all about the visit with Graham. He told her about how he lost his temper when Graham began talking about the affairs.

"It was Jane's perspective, Ruth. I didn't love any of those women. Well, there was one I thought I loved – for a while – a Russian spy stationed in Berlin."

So Harry told Ruth about the women with whom he'd had affairs. It was past eleven o'clock by the time he'd finished the story of his more sordid exploits. He was not proud of any of it, and he hoped Ruth could forgive him.

"Thank you for that, Harry. It's all in the past, and unless you resort to similar behaviour behind my back, it need not affect me, so it shouldn't hurt us." Ruth thought for a while, and then she spoke again. "Do you ever …... fantasise about any of these women? You know ….. when you're with me."

"Of course not, Ruth. They're history. You're my present, and my future. For the past six years or so …... it's only ever been you. What fantasies I engage in …... they're all about you."

They exchanged soft kisses for a while, and then, lying in one another's arms, they slept. Harry fell asleep before Ruth, and while she watched his face in sleep, she hoped that he was a strong enough man to continue to fight for his son.


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: This is the final chapter of this fic. Thanks to all those who took the time to review._**

* * *

They were both woken by the ringtone of Harry's mobile phone. Ruth wondered who would think it a good idea to be ringing this early, even before Harry's alarm had sounded.

"Harry Pearce," she heard him say gruffly. "Yes, Felix. No, you didn't wake me." Harry listened for a few minutes, and Ruth could hear the sound of Felix Graham's voice through the speaker. "I'll ring you back when I get to work. I'll have to discuss this with Ruth."

"Discuss what with Ruth?" she asked once he'd hung up.

"Felix is planning to work with Graham towards meeting me again this Sunday. He thinks that this – the fighting, and then one of us storming off - is something Graham and I have always done, and we should learn to respond differently."

"Wise man."

"You agree?"

"I think it's imperative that you visit Graham on Sunday …... even if he refuses to see you. You have to break the habits of a lifetime."

Harry nodded, but he was watching Ruth, his eyes on her lips. "Do we have time?" he asked at last.

Ruth nodded, and then leaned against him, pulling his head down to hers, kissing him fiercely.

They made love slowly, tenderly, both aware that each time they connected in this way it was about so much more than sex. It was about them continually having to break down the barriers which they'd each spent so many years erecting. It would not be easy, but they'd get there in the end. They had to.

* * *

As they had on the previous Sunday, Harry drove he and Ruth to Buckinghamshire, and were met at the front door of the private hospital by Felix Graham.

"Good news," he said as they stepped through the door, "Graham's agreed to see you."

The psychiatrist led them through to his office off the main corridor, and again he directed them to sit together on the small sofa near the window. Again, as last time, Ruth grasped Harry's hand, and held it tightly in her own as Felix spoke with them both, giving Harry some ideas about how to deal with his own temper when it threatened to get in the way of reconciliation.

"If you like, Ruth," Felix said, just before leading Harry to Graham's room, "you can wait in here. I'll not be needing my office until after your visit ends.

So Ruth sat on the sofa in Felix's office while Harry left to meet Graham. She gave him a quick kiss before he left, and then from her bag she took the copy of Ovid – the one Harry had given her four years earlier – and silently read it while she waited. She felt she needed the wisdom of Ovid as she waited, hoping Harry would make the most of this chance to reconcile with Graham.

It was almost an hour before she heard the door open behind her shoulder, and Harry's voice saying her name.

She turned, and standing in the doorway was Harry, a small smile on his lips, and just behind his shoulder stood a young man. Graham Pearce was slightly built, half a head taller than Harry, with short brown hair which curled at the ends. He had piercing grey eyes which to Ruth's eyes looked sad. The most noticeable similarity to his father was his full lips which pouted as he stared at her, taking her in.

Ruth stood, and stepped towards him, her hand out, ready to shake his hand. She was relieved when he moved towards her, stepping past Harry.

"Graham," she said softly, "I'm Ruth. I'm thrilled to meet you."

"Likewise," he said, shaking her hand, his voice sounding remarkably like Harry's, although perhaps not quite as deep.

Graham hadn't smiled, and Ruth had the impression that he was a man who seldom smiled.

"Er ….. Harry …... Dad told me about you, and I asked could I meet you. I hope you don't mind."

"No ….. no, I'm happy to be meeting you at last."

"I'll get us each a coffee," Harry said from the doorway, where he hovered, watching the meeting between his son and his lover.

Harry left the room, and Ruth showed Graham to a chair by the window, while she sat back on the sofa.

"I asked the old man why he was so …... different …... apart from his dummy spit on Wednesday night, but I did call him a selfish arsehole who chased everything with a pulse. On reflection, that may have been a bit harsh."

Ruth found herself smiling at him. She could see a strength in him which she imagined Harry had also possessed while young.

"So …... he told me that he had someone …... someone he loves, and I told him I didn't believe him, and then he said that you were here today, and you'd been here last Sunday. Then I said he should prove it by letting me meet you." Graham looked down at his hands before he continued speaking. "You're not at all what I expected."

"Really? What did you expect?"

"Someone glamorous … sorry, I didn't mean that to sound like you're not attractive, because you are. My father had an eye for women who made him look good. He had a type."

"Who told you that?"

He looked up at her, his eyes steely. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because Harry's told me about all the women he had, and you were still a small child at the time most of them drifted through his life. A couple of them were before you were born, so as I see it, you are not in a position to be assessing or even classifying these women, given it's unlikely you ever met any of them."

Graham Pearce smiled at Ruth, with a smile which lit up his face. "Touché," he said. "I deserved that."

Harry had heard the exchange from outside the doorway, and he entered the room with a tray on which sat a coffee pot, milk, sugar, and three cups. "You're getting on then, I see," he said, placing the tray on Felix Graham's desk, and then pouring cups for each of them.

"Famously," Ruth answered him, glancing at Graham, who smiled at her.

"You hadn't told me how clever Ruth is," Graham said, addressing Harry, but his eyes still holding Ruth's.

"Didn't I? Ruth is many things, all of them wonderful, and yes, she's much cleverer than I am."

Harry sat on the sofa next to Ruth, and she watched while he and his son exchanged mild insults, and even some guarded compliments.

"At least your taste in women has improved," Graham said, sipping his coffee.

"That's not exactly a compliment to your mother," Harry replied.

"Mum was all wrong for you, and you for her. I'd say that Ruth is exactly the kind of woman you need. Someone to keep you honest."

Harry glanced across at his son, and seeing the smile on his face, realised that this was a sideways compliment. "She certainly does that. I can get away with nothing." Harry smiled at Ruth, his eyes soft. "Not that I'd ever want to deceive her," he added softly, his words just for her.

Before Harry and Ruth left, Ruth assured Graham that she would be accompanying Harry each Sunday, and that were he open to it, she would enjoy spending a short time with him. "And when Felix says you're ready, you might even like to have lunch with us afterwards."

Graham nodded his assent. He saw them to the front door, and shook the hands of both of them.

"That was a formal goodbye," Ruth commented, once she and Harry were in the car.

"He may never let me hug him," Harry said. "At least, when I shake his hand, I get to touch him."

Ruth reached across the car's interior, and stroked Harry's cheek with her fingers. She had never loved him more. She leaned across and seeing her movement towards him, Harry leaned towards her to receive her kiss.

"What was that about?"

"Because you need to be touched, Harry. Because I enjoy kissing you. Because I love you."

"Mmm, me too." Harry looked into Ruth's eyes, and saw enough love there to last them for a very long time. "Shall we go to that same pub for lunch?" he asked.

"Yes, let's."

_Fin_


End file.
